


You Did Not Know Me

by protect-him (dooliandrake)



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games)
Genre: Alternate Timelines, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Lyrium Addiction, M/M, Post-Dragon Age II, Soulmate-Identifying Marks
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-09
Updated: 2017-08-31
Packaged: 2018-11-29 17:39:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 12,584
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11445780
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dooliandrake/pseuds/protect-him
Summary: Alternate timeline/soulmate AU where Fenris never escaped from Danarius. He survived the ritual, but Danarius was displeased with his slow recovery, removed the lyrium, and then went to sell Fenris before he could die, hoping to getsomethingfor him. Anders fled to Tevinter post-DA2 and runs a clinic there. He happens to be walking by the market when he sees his soulmark on a slave.





	1. Anders Makes a Large Purchase

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by a prompt idea by [DovaBunny](http://archiveofourown.org/users/dovabunny). Thanks!

Anders’ least favorite part of his day was the walk past the slave market. There was so much need and desperation in Tevinter that he couldn't have found a better place for his clinic, yet seeing slaves all around him was extremely disheartening some days.

He felt the familiar tug on his heart when he heard the cries of the auctioneer. Every one of those poor people could use his help. He could purchase the freedom of one perhaps with all of his current savings, but what was one slave out of all the thousands in Tevinter? And with more coming in every day, Anders could do nothing about it, though it hurt to meet the sad eyes of a slave and simply walk on by. Anders tried to walk quickly, but a stray glance towards the platform had him halting so quickly that several people behind him ran into him.

_ That mark!  _ He hardly thought, pushing his way towards the platform, where a small set of slaves waited to be sold. The last one had Anders’ soul mark, a pair of butterflies on the left side of his chest, just beneath the collarbone. As Anders got closer, the mark was unmistakable. He really looked at his soulmate now, standing several rows back from the stage. An elf, dark skinned with stunningly white hair. When he looked closer at the rest of the elf’s body, Anders nearly choked. Raw wounds covered most of his body. They were barely treated, just enough to look alright from a distance, but Anders could tell immediately that if nothing was done, the elf might die.  _ His soulmate might die _ . He looked around for the seller.

He could tell him instantly when he saw him, a harsh looking man in fine magister robes. Masters rarely attended the auctions of their slaves. Anders reached into his robe for the money he kept on him at all times, not trusting that he wouldn't be robbed while he was away. It was all he had, and not much.  _ It might be just enough _ .

As the slaves in the set were sold off one by one, Anders watched with horror as the elf stumbled. His eyes a stunning green, but they were glazed with...what could only be pain. The wide metal collar seemed almost too heavy for him; he sagged forward, despite a visible effort to remain upright.

The auctioneer tried to gloss over the slave’s obvious flaw, but it did not go unnoticed by the sharp eyes of the buyers. There was no movement to bid until the angry-looking magister agreed to lower the starting price. It was a little high, still, and Anders saw a few of the other buyers muttering to one another. If it went much lower, they would start bidding. The slave could be useful as fodder or for experimentation. The current price was just shy of Anders’ entire savings.

“I will purchase him for this price,” Anders said, stepping forward, knowing that he would risk losing his soulmate if he waited much longer. The magister seemed pleased. Anders painstakingly counted out his coin, pretending that this was simply all he carried with him and that he had more at home. Then the elf was forcibly shoved from the platform and Anders struggled to catch him.

“C-come on,” he stammered, trying to keep calm. It was all he could do to keep from gently pressing his palm against the soul mark.

The elf limped alongside him as Anders began their slow trip back to his small house. He wasn’t allowed to live in his clinic here, so he had to keep a separate residence. He lived in the poorest part of town and, because he couldn’t help himself, healed people out of his home as well. Tonight, though, he put out the light and pulled the curtain across the window once he’d brought the elf inside.  _ His soulmate _ .

The elf didn’t respond at first when Anders tried to speak to him. So Anders simply brought him into the bedroom and lay him on top of the sheets. The wounds on the elf’s body made no sense to Anders. They almost appeared to be carved into him, but why? And there had been no attempts to heal them either, judging by their sadly infected state. It was a wonder the elf was still able to  _ stand _ . Though even that he could barely do.

“Alright, just lay still,” Anders said, preparing to begin healing. The elf looked at him with a dazed expression, and then his eyes widened. With incredible speed for someone so injured, the elf hurled himself off the other side of the bed, throwing himself against the wall. He seemed to realize he’d made a mistake, then, and fell to his knees, disappearing behind the bed. Anders hurried to run around to him.

“You’ll hurt yourself!” He said, kneeling next to the elf, who shrank away yet again.

“S-sorry, master,” the elf ground out.

Anders should have expected it, but it still shook him. He  _ did _ buy the elf, after all. He shuddered to think of it.

“Don’t worry about it,” Anders said, “now the thing I want most is to check your injuries. Will you let me?”

“Of course, master,” the elf said, his face still pressed to the floor.

“Can you...not call me master?”

“You are my master.”

Anders found himself blinking back tears.

“We’ll take care of that soon,” he mumbled. “Please, lie down on the bed again for me. I will be careful.”

The elf nodded and stood, keeping his body bowed as much out of respect as from pain. Anders could practically feel it. The elf lay down, grimacing with each movement.

“What’s your name?” Anders asked, pulling up his small wooden stool so he could sit by the bed.

“I am Fenris,” the elf said, though he sounded unsure.

“Alright, Fenris,” Anders said, loving the way the name felt when he said it. “I need to know about what happened to you. You are going to scar, unfortunately, but I can help you heal.”

“I am a worthless slave,” Fenris said, looking up at Anders earnestly. He flinched as Anders ran his thumb along one of the cuts on his arm. “He took it away. My lyrium.”

“Your master gave you lyrium?” Anders puzzled. Why wasn’t the elf poisoned by it?

“It was to make me strong,” Fenris said, his gaze unfocusing.

“Hey, stay with me,” Anders said, putting a hand to Fenris’s cheek. “How often would you drink lyrium?”

“Morning,” Fenris said, “and evening.”

Anders frowned. The elf didn’t appear to be a mage, so why was he being given lyrium?

“I am going to do a diagnostic,” Anders said quietly. “Keep calm.”

The elf nodded, though Anders realized that he was only obeying because he thought Anders owned him. The sooner he could heal Fenris, the sooner he could work on helping him. Anders let the magic filter into Fenris, beginning with the wounds that covered his body. The elf shivered almost imperceptibly. Yes, Anders could feel it, a strong lyrium residue. The scars were almost coated in it. The lyrium should have stayed inside the body. How did it get into the scars? Why were they carved into his skin?

Anders probed beneath the skin, past the raw wounds. Internally, he was healthy. Before whatever had been done to him, he had been well taken care of. Anders frowned. Yes, there was more lyrium residue. It seemed to almost be resonating with the residue on the outside of his skin, held in place by that bond, preventing him from the poisoning. It was completely unlike anything Anders’ had ever seen. The two seemed connected. But if Fenris also had a lyrium addiction...lyrium was expensive. It was possible to get off lyrium, but it was a slow process. And if he healed the lyrium-residue wounds, the lyrium inside him would begin to poison him.

_ This is my soulmate _ , Anders thought.  _ Someone did this to him _ . He pulled back his diagnostic spell and leaned heavily against the bed, closing his eyes as a tear escaped to run down his cheek.

“Master…” Fenris spoke after a long minute. Anders opened his eyes, another tear falling.

“Don’t call me that, please,” Anders said. “Things will be different here.”

“You purchased me,” Fenris said. Anders quieted him.

“Just rest for now, Fenris.”

Fenris obeyed, closing his eyes.


	2. Anders Has a Lot to Worry About

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anders has a lot to think about, and has a tendency to care a lot. Especially in this case.

Anders wandered into the other room of his small house, a combination kitchen and living room, though he had furnished this room for receiving a different kind of visitor than most. A bed for patients sat next to his small cabinet of basic healing supplies. He opened the cabinet to see how much lyrium he had currently. Not much. And now with his savings all but depleted, it was going to be a meager living for a while.

As much as he’d loved running a free clinic in Kirkwall, having one where he got paid really had its benefits. He took one day off now, but he determined that in order to support a second person — _ his soulmate _ —he’d need to bolster his income.  _ And he has a lyrium addiction _ . Anders wondered just how much the elf was used to taking. The first thing he’d do was get it down to once a day, at midday. It would still need to be a dose at least as large as the one he was used to, but Anders thought he might be able to decrease it pretty soon after the adjustment.

He lined up the three large bottles of lyrium he did own. If he made the switch to one dose a day, these would probably last six days, assuming he didn’t end up needing any himself. And then he had three more bottles in the clinic. Fenris would have to go to the clinic with him, of course. There was a little room in the back where he could stay while Anders worked.

He sat heavily on the cot and pulled out the tie that held back his hair so he could run his fingers through it.

Anders hadn’t even thought about soulmates in years. His own mark was usually hidden beneath his shirt. He’d have to be even more careful to hide it now. If Fenris knew...Anders worried that he’d scare the elf. The idea of having a soulmate could be a very overwhelming one. He had been nervous about it, then excited, and then as no one had shown up, he’d slowly lost hope. Now his soulmate was  _ here, _ on his bed. Anders scrambled back to his feet. His soulmate was possibly  _ dying _ . He didn’t have time to sit around feeling romantic. Fenris would need clothes as well. Anders grabbed some elfroot and went back into the bedroom. 

Fenris’s eyes snapped open as Anders reentered.

“You’re not sleeping,” Anders said.

“I apologize, master,” Fenris said, trying to sit up. “I am unused to these arrangements.”

“No, lie down,” Anders said, hurrying to the bedside. He set down the elfroot and gently put a hand on Fenris’s shoulder to help him lie down. His eyes went to the soulmate mark, a perfect reflection of his own.

“Do you not have a corner for me?” Fenris asked, “or a mat?”

Anders closed his eyes and swallowed the knot of pain that rose in his throat. He shook his head, looking at Fenris again.

“I won’t allow that,” he said, “even if you were a cat, I let Ser Pounce sleep on my bed, and you’re certainly not a cat.” He fumbled for the elfroot salve, opening the lid and rubbing some onto his fingers. “Maybe a dog would sleep in the corner, but—”

Fenris interrupted him. “A dog would not sleep in the corner.”

Anders looked at Fenris in surprise, and the elf’s eyes widened as he realized his mistake.

“I’m sorry master.”

“No, go on,” Anders said gently.  _ What if his soulmate liked dogs? _ Would the universe really be so cruel as to make his soulmate a dog lover? “Do you like dogs Fenris? Why wouldn’t a dog sleep on the floor?”

Fenris hesitated.

“A slave is worth less than a dog,” he said.

“That’s not true,” Anders replied.

“It is fact.”

Anders shook his head stubbornly. “In my house, you and I are equals.”

Fenris’s muscles tensed, and Anders saw the flash of pain cross his face for a moment before he was able to mask it.

“You can’t mean that,” Fenris said quietly.

Anders sighed. It was time to change the subject.

“We’ll talk more of it once you are better,” Anders said. “I am going to use this salve for your injuries. Have you been treated with elfroot before?” He most likely had, but Anders felt it best to make sure.

Fenris shook his head.

“It will sting a little,” Anders warned, “don’t worry. It’s supposed to do that.” He touched the salve to Fenris’s shoulder and the elf hissed. “Last week I forgot to warn a little kid,” he said, “and I started putting on the salve and he started screaming and crying. Then his mother was crying and I was trying to calm them down with my hands covered in blood and elfroot salve. It was…” He chuckled breathlessly. “I don’t want to make that mistake again.”

“I won’t cry,” Fenris said, but he was looking at Anders curiously.

Anders bit at his lip and continued spreading the salve down Fenris’s arm, along the raw skin.

“What caused these?” He asked.

Fenris looked away and then just repeated what he’d said earlier.

“He took it away. The lyrium.”

“Lyrium, okay,” Anders repeated. The addiction must be pretty bad. “Look, we’re going to get you some lyrium, but I’m not the man who did this to you. I can’t afford that much lyrium. I’m going to get you some, tomorrow, okay?” He dipped his fingers back into the salve and moved to Fenris’s other side to begin on his other arm.

“We’re going to switch to once a day, alright? I don’t think it can be good for you to have a lot. I don’t know why you were getting it in the first place. Do you know? Why was that man giving you lyrium?”

Fenris opened his mouth and then closed it again before speaking. He shook his head.

Anders nodded, pausing as he spread the salve down Fenris’s arm. There was an infected spot near his wrist. He made a mental note. He’d need to go back and clean those out later.

It ended up taking several hours before Anders finished putting on the salve and then examining the infected areas. Fenris was also unexpectedly resistant to wearing Anders’ clothes, insisting that he preferred wearing nothing to wearing his master’s clothes.

“I’m not going to have that,” Anders insisted, frowning. “I can’t afford new clothes for you and you need something to wear.”

Fenris appeared startled, accepting the clothes Anders was holding out for him.

“You bought me,” he said, puzzled.

Anders ran a hand down his face. He was exhausted, and should have been asleep an hour ago.  _ It was worth it _ , he thought.  _ My soulmate _ . He looked up and watched the soulmate mark disappear beneath the loose tunic that was too large for Fenris. It hung off one shoulder—the other shoulder. It took some more convincing to get Fenris back in bed, and then Anders insisting that Fenris eat a little bread before he finally felt that the elf would actually sleep and allowed himself to go to bed as well.

As the temperature fell, Anders wriggled on his cot and worried his lip, staring up at the ceiling.

What had he done? He’d just spent nearly every silver he had to buy a slave.  _ Not just any slave. My soulmate _ . Simply for not knowing what to do with them, the collar and lead chain lay in a heap by the door. The rope that had bound Fenris’s arms behind his back was tucked away in a different cabinet—Anders could actually use rope. But there was so much he would now need to consider, and so much to do. He needed to find out  _ what _ had been done to Fenris so he could try to undo it. He needed to get the elf off lyrium while also working more than ever to help pay for the lyrium, food, clothing. Anders slept poorly that night. He missed Kirkwall and his friends. He missed Karl. As delighted as he was to have found his soulmate, he was not in a place where he was really prepared for it. He was barely scraping by as it was. And now he had someone to look after.  _ A soulmate _ .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for reading! much love <3 <3


	3. Anders Takes Fenris to Work

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anders takes Fenris with him to the clinic, and begins to realize how difficult the healing process will be.

Anders woke with a start.

Why was he sleeping in the front room? What had happened?

He heard a cry from his bedroom and everything came back to him. Snatching a bottle of lyrium from the cabinet, he hurried into the room.

Fenris was asleep, but must have been having a nightmare. He had thrown off the cover that Anders had given him and was coated in sweat. Anders’ tunic clung to his skin, and the wounds on his chest must have opened during the night, because blood had soaked through.

Anders went to touch Fenris’s arm.

“Fenris, wake up.”

Fenris jolted upright. Anders yelped as Fenris clambered off the bed and dropped to the floor.

“I apologize, master,” Fenris said, his voice rough.

Anders knelt in front of him, reaching for his arms.

“Fenris, please stand up. Please don’t call me your master. You need to lie down.”

Fenris blinked rapidly, and Anders could see him remembering what had happened the day before as well. Only Fenris’s memories caused him to shudder. He nodded and stood, swaying unsteadily.

“I’m going to get you something to eat,” Anders said, once Fenris had sat down on the bed. “Don’t move.”

Taking the lyrium with him, he ran into the kitchen, shuffling through his cupboards for something fresh. He had some fruit, a little overripe and soft, but it would serve the best, he thought. He brought it in to Fenris.

“Eat this,” he said, handing Fenris a piece. Fenris obeyed, thankfully without argument, but watched Anders as he did so. Anders couldn’t read his expression. Was the elf suspicious? Was he looking for lyrium? Punishment?

“Good job,” Anders said, feeling a little awkward now. He ate the second piece of fruit himself, not wanting to put Fenris any more ill at ease than he already was. Fenris merely blinked at him, continuing to eat at a quick but steady pace.

Once he was finished, Anders spoke again.

“How do you feel? Are you still in pain?”

Fenris blinked at him.  _ What is he thinking? _

“Can you remove the tunic?” Anders asked. “It looks like you might have been bleeding.”

Fenris did as he was asked, sitting still as Anders came closer and leaned in to look at Fenris’s chest.

The firm curves of his body were certainly impressive, and his skin was flawless aside from the ugly cuts. Again, Anders wondered what the purpose had been. He very gently pulled apart the skin just above the sternum, where it had been bleeding. Nothing looked out of the ordinary, though some of the lyrium residue was actually visible. Curious, Anders probed at it with magic. The lyrium sparked bright blue and Fenris yelped softly.

“Oh, shit,” Anders muttered. “Sorry.”  _ How did that much lyrium get in there? _ It was almost as if lyrium had been poured into the open wound, but Anders could see no purpose in that. Unless this was simply a very sick magister.

“This may not heal well until I can remove the lyrium,” Anders said, putting his hand gently over the raw skin and emitting a weak healing spell to ease the pain he’d caused.

Anders glanced at the now bloody tunic. He’d need to wash it. Fenris needed a new one for today. He went to his chest and dug out another, and one of Anders’ older pairs of leggings.

“I have to go to my business today,” Anders said, “so I’m afraid you’ll need to come along. These are probably too big, but it’s all I have for now.”

Fenris nodded and began to dress. He was clearly already less disoriented than he’d been the day before, and somewhat perkier. At least he didn’t look like he was hours from death now. He was more subdued though, deferring to Anders at the slightest inclination.

He refused to walk beside Anders on the way to the clinic, walking a pace behind him, as was customary for a slave.

Anders tried to argue.

“I can’t be seen with a slave,” he said. “I am a poor healer. You’re simply my guest now.”

Fenris was insistent.

“You bought me.”

Anders let him trail behind. A pair of female slaves were waiting when he arrived to open the clinic. They looked at Fenris with some alarm. Anders quickly ushered him into the back room.

The women knew better than to ask, but Anders knew that it would quickly become known that the Anderfels healer had a man-slave. Once the women left, leaving the silvers their masters had sent with them, Anders went back to check on Fenris. Fenris was kneeling in the center of the small room. He bowed when Anders entered.

“I can’t speak to you if you’re doing that,” Anders said, his tiredness already beginning to show. He handed Fenris one of the silvers. “Can you go to the stall at the end of the street and purchase a coffee from the man there? If he asks, it’s for Anders.”

Fenris nodded, eager to have something to do, and disappeared.  _ The one thing about slaves _ , Anders thought,  _ they don’t ask questions _ . Anyone in Kirkwall would have known why Anders wanted coffee and would have been asking why he hadn’t slept or what had kept him up so late. Fenris simply went.

Before he returned, Anders found himself treating several more servants. They were small ailments. A cold sore, a rash, a fever. The magisters paid slightly more than Anders felt they needed to, but he accepted the money gratefully.

The door opened and Anders turned, expecting to finally see Fenris, but instead he saw a guard, the dark skin of the man’s exposed shoulder slick with sweat. He pulled Fenris in behind him.

“This slave claims that he belongs to you,” the guard said, “but you are Anderfel, are you not?”

“I am,” Anders said, hurrying forward.

“I would have thought you did not believe in owning slaves.” The man tightened his grip on Fenris’s arm.

“I paid for him yesterday,” Anders ground out, irritated to have to admit to purchasing a slave. The guard smiled, somewhat villainously, Anders thought, and let Fenris go.

Fenris walked over and handed Anders the coffee with a small submissive bow of his head.

“Sorry about that,” Anders said. “Everyone picks on me here. But they come to me for healing, so it’s worth it to stay.” He walked with Fenris into the back room, where he collapsed against a wall and took a long drink of his coffee.

Fenris wore a curious expression.

“I guess in your previous household, people didn’t really talk much around you,” Anders said conversationally. Fenris was probably unused to seeing someone so relaxed.

“They did,” Fenris said.

“They didn’t talk  _ to _ you?” Anders clarified. Fenris nodded.  _ So that’s why he looks so  uncomfortable _ . “You’ll have to get used to it,” he said. “I talk a lot, and at whomever happens to be around.”

He heard the door to the clinic open and sighed.

“There’s a mat by the wall if you want to lie down,” Anders said, pointing. “I’ll be busy the rest of the day. If I have a moment I’ll bring in some food.” Fenris didn’t offer a response, and Anders didn’t have time to wait for one.

It was mid-afternoon by the time he had a break. An elderly woman with heatstroke lay on one of his beds, but otherwise the clinic was empty. Anders slipped out to buy lunch and returned to find a street child hovering just inside the door. He gave her his bread and sent her away, and then went back to see Fenris.

Fenris was kneeling again, but stood as soon as Anders entered.

“I brought food,” Anders said, and then saw the haunted look in the elf’s face.  _ He hasn’t had lyrium yet today _ . He handed Fenris his portion and then went to retrieve a lyrium potion.

Fenris hadn’t touched his fish yet when Anders returned with the lyrium potion.

Fenris looked up eagerly.

“Do you know how much you are used to taking?” Anders asked. Fenris shook his head. “Alright, you can have half of it,” he said, handing it over reluctantly.

The elf drained half of the potion, and then passed it back, visibly relaxing.

_ What is it doing to him? _

“There would have been bread as well, but I gave it away,” Anders said, digging into his own lunch. Fenris ate much more slowly than he had earlier, even seeming reluctant to finish.

“Are you alright?” Anders asked. “Did you lose your appetite?”

Fenris shook his head. “I am fine,” he replied, quickly finishing the fish with what could have been taken as a grimace. Anders missed it, though, wrapped up in finishing his own meal. It wouldn’t be long before someone else would be needing his healing skills. He leaned back against the wall, resting his head and looking up at the low stucco ceiling. The nicer buildings had marble. His clinic was sadly a cheap structure. It was hot and there was poor circulation in this back room. He heard another patient come in, and reluctantly got up.

He kept his lantern lit much later than usual today, needing the extra coin from the few people who came by after dark.

He finally turned it out and went back to find Fenris still kneeling, waiting for him.

“Have you been there all afternoon?” Anders asked, looking worried when Fenris nodded. “Are you sure you’re alright to walk back?” Fenris nodded again. He did not falter, but Anders saw him glancing around nervously, almost with paranoia.

“I will not,” Fenris said, when Anders tried to get him to sleep on his bed again. He appeared to be scanning the floor for a good spot, so Anders pointed out that he had a cot in the other room.

“This will be yours,” he said to Fenris. “It’s clearly not being used.”

Despite how tired he was, Anders had Fenris remove his tunic again and examined the cuts, paying special attention to the infected areas. All of it was already looking somewhat improved, though Anders noted that Fenris was still in pain, and must have been all day.

“Why didn’t you tell me they hurt?” He asked as Fenris lay back and Anders opened the salve again.

“It was negligible,” Fenris responded, glancing away.

“I could have done something to help you,” Anders said, but his voice wasn’t truly upset. He was too tired for that. He worked in silence for a while, his gaze lingering frequently on the soulmate mark. He wished he could take off his shirt as well and declare their bond, that he could lie next to the elf and hold his body close so that their reflected marks would touch as they pressed against each other.

Reality was much more harsh, though.  _ He needs time _ . Anders brought Fenris water before going to bed and watched as the elf obediently drank and handed back the cup. It was going to be some time before Fenris would begin to see them as equals. Anders was too exhausted to toss and turn tonight, but in his dreams he was touching the butterflies of his soul mark on Fenris’s skin, and Fenris’s eyes were clear and bright.  _ My soulmate _ .


	4. Anders Observes Some Worrying Behavior

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The symptoms of Fenris's lyrium withdrawal begin to show.

Anders had to drag himself out of bed. His own bed was more comfortable than the cot in the other room.

Fenris was already awake, sitting up on the cot and fidgeting.

“Don’t scratch at them,” Anders said, hurrying closer. He reached for Fenris’s wrist and looked at the infected skin where Fenris had been picking at the freshly-formed scabs.

Anders went to retrieve the salve again and reapplied it to Fenris’s forearms. The elf looked at him curiously as he did.

“Fenris,” Anders did quietly as he worked. “Can you tell me why he did this to you?”  _ Why did he hurt you so badly?  _

Fenris shivered a little and opened his mouth, then seemed to change his mind and closed it again.

“You can tell me,” Anders urged, “I want to help you.”

“L-lyrium,” Fenris said.

Anders’ hands gently worked the salve into the elf’s skin.

“Why lyrium?”

Fenris shook his head.

“Why is there lyrium residue in your wounds?” Anders pressed.

“He took it away,” Fenris said quietly, his voice barely above a rough whisper. “I failed him.”

Anders sighed. It was impossible that drinking the lyrium had done this, but it seemed that Fenris thought that his master taking away the lyrium dosage was to blame. 

“I mean these cuts,” Anders said. “There is something unusual about them.”

Fenris shot him a quick, pained glance, and hung his head. Anders pressed his lips into a thin line. He should have killed the man who did this. He'd been right there that day. As he finished applying the salve, it was all he could do not to brush his thumb over the soulmate mark. 

“Try not to scratch your arms,” Anders said, standing up and grabbing his things. Fenris nodded and put his tunic back on.

It was going to be a hot day, already Anders was sweating under his robe. Again, he looked at the guards standing at intervals along the street and considered adopting more Tevinter fashion. Clearly, the people knew how to handle the heat. That, in addition to the use of marble and the open but shaded architecture were truly indicative of the region’s temperament.

Fenris followed him, falling into step several paces behind Anders.

“You’re pretty quiet,” Anders said, “are all the magister houses so silent?”

Fenris didn’t answer. Anders glanced back at him. Fenris was looking around in alarm and looked disoriented.

“Are you alright?” Anders reached back for the elf’s arm. “Let’s get to the clinic,” he said quietly. People on the street were beginning to look at them curiously. Fenris didn’t resist as Anders pulled him along.

Once they arrived, Anders sat Fenris down on a cot and looked at him carefully.

“Did something happen?”

“He has returned,” Fenris said.

“Who?” Anders looked around in alarm.

“The voice,” Fenris replied.

“You’re hearing voices?” Anders asked. “That sounds like lyrium withdrawal. It’s not real, Fenris. Try to ignore it.” He’d hoped that the symptoms would take longer to start appearing

Fenris bowed his head.

“I know this voice,” he said, standing and moving towards the room at the back of the clinic. Anders caught his arm.

“What does the voice say?”

Fenris simply blinked at him. Behind Anders, the clinic door opened and Anders turned to greet his patient. He reluctantly let Fenris go and turned to his work, which kept him busy until midafternoon.

When he found time to bring in Fenris’s lyrium ration and lunch, he was concerned to see Fenris sitting against a wall with his knees to his chest, staring at the back wall as though there was something there.

“Fenris? I brought lunch.” Anders sat down in front of him, laying out the fried fish and bread. “I hope you don’t mind fish,” he said, “it’s the cheapest I can get in this part of town. Fenris?”

Fenris was still staring at the wall. Anders reached out and gently touched his arm. Fenris jumped, eyes wide, and Anders pulled away.

“S-sorry master,” Fenris said.

“I’m not—” Anders sighed and handed Fenris his food. “Here, you must be hungry. What were you looking at?”

“You do not see him?” Fenris asked, accepting the fish. He glanced aside.

“There is no one there,” Anders said.  _ Withdrawal hallucinations _ . Fenris must be both seeing and hearing things. Anders picked up the half-full bottle of lyrium. “Drink this. That should help what you are seeing.” He didn't dare try to give the elf more. 

Fenris drank eagerly, but did not seem to have much interest in eating.

“You need to eat,” Anders urged him, worry gnawing at him.

Fenris obeyed, but Anders noticed that he did not seem interested in the fish.

“You don’t like fish?”

“I am grateful for the meal,” he said, bowing his head and picking it up to take a bite.

“You don’t like it,” Anders said, frowning. “You don’t have to eat it. Here, have my bread. I’ll eat the fish.” Fenris hung his head and apologized.

“Everyone has foods they don’t like,” Anders said. “I don’t like that dish that everyone makes here. It has rice and vegetables and—well, those I don’t mind—I think it’s the spices I don’t like. It’s really spicy and I don’t like spicy food very much. It makes my eyes water, and my nose run, and that’s just.” He shook his head. “Not pleasant.” He munched on the fish as Fenris watched. “Is it just this fish?” He asked, “or is it any kind of fish?”

“I do not like fish,” Fenris said quietly, pulling off another bite of bread. Anders grinned.

“Now I know,” he said. “It’s a good thing fish isn’t my favorite either. How do you feel about flatbread wraps with rice and meat?”

Fenris shrugged.

“Those must be okay,” Anders said, a little disappointed that Fenris wouldn’t continue to offer his opinion on food. “Why don’t you come out into the clinic with me for the rest of the day? It must be pretty dull in here by yourself.” He glanced to where Fenris had purportedly seen someone. Maybe it would help Fenris to have more to observe than just empty walls. 

Fenris followed him into the clinic when another patient arrived, and Anders’ busy afternoon continued. Most of the work he performed was minor and for very small fees, but it added up over time. Just around sunset, someone a bit different from Anders’ usual patrons walked through the door.

The man was well-dressed and walked confidently into the clinic. He looked around with obvious curiosity.

“Can I help you?” Anders called from where he was bandaging a cut on a young man’s foot.

“This place is an oddity,” the man said. “You are a spirit healer, are you not?”

“I am,” Anders replied.

“Would you have time to discuss some of the theory behind spirit healing?”

Anders looked at him suspiciously. The man looked wealthy. He was dressed in fine clothes and had a neatly curled and trimmed mustache.

“I run a busy clinic,” Anders said, trying to brush the man off politely.

“I am amenable to waiting until you are free,” the man said. “Perhaps I can treat you to dinner and we can talk?”

It was difficult for Anders to say no to free food. He glanced at Fenris, who knelt patiently in a corner.

“He comes with us,” he said, nodding at Fenris.

“Of course, your slave would accompany you.”

“H-he’s not my slave,” Anders said, nodding as he accepted the half-silver coin from the patient he’d just been treated. The man limped out, leaving Anders alone with the well-dressed stranger.

The man tilted his head, puzzled.

“I am intrigued.”

“I am taking care of him,” Anders said. “He is staying with me.”

Fenris looked up, his expression a little puzzled as well.  _ He’s my soulmate _ . Anders let his gaze linger on Fenris’s thin frame, with Anders’ shirt hanging off his shoulder—the other shoulder. He smiled softly, then started when the man coughed.

“I generally stay open a little longer,” Anders said apologetically, “if you don’t mind waiting.”

“Of course not. May I know your name?”

“Anders.”

“Dorian of house Pavus. It is a pleasure.” Dorian turned and walked over to where Fenris knelt. Fenris bowed to the floor as Dorian approached. Anders took a few steps to stop Fenris and try to explain, but a mother came through the door with three crying children, one of whom had a broken arm and a bad cut on its head. Anders rushed to help, hoping that Dorian did not draw any wrong conclusions from Fenris’s behavior.  _ I wasn’t lying _ .  _ I will free him as soon as I can afford it _ . Even those thoughts faded, though, as he drained the last of his mana healing the child. He was lightheaded by the time the mother and the now-quiet children left. He put out the lamp outside the clinic and turned to Dorian and Fenris.

Dorian smiled warmly. “Still interested in eating?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, and they also meet a new friend. Hello!
> 
> <3 thanks for all the sweet comments, everyone! I love them <3


	5. Anders Eats Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anders and Fenris go to dinner with their new acquaintance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really enjoyed writing this chapter, and I hope you enjoy reading it!

Dorian led the way to a restaurant just on the edge of the wealthy part of town. Despite this, the place was modest, and Anders did not look out of place in his more simple robes.

Fenris on the other hand, was clearly uncomfortable, and did look out of place as a patron. Anders’ shirt hung off his shoulder and the leggings bunched around his ankles, being much too long for him. Anders guided the elf through the building as they followed Dorian to a secluded table in the back corner of the restaurant.

“Don’t scratch them,” Anders reminded him quietly as Fenris’s fingers twitched against his forearms. Dorian motioned for them to sit and then seated himself opposite. Fenris resisted stiffly for a moment.

“Sit by me,” Anders urged him.

“Slaves do not sit,” Fenris muttered as Anders gently tugged on his arm. Dorian’s eyes flitted from one to the other.

“There’s nowhere else for you to go,” Anders said, beginning to worry as Fenris started to look panicked. “No one will notice back here. Come on.” He let go and patted the surface of the chair.

Fenris quickly pulled the chair back and dropped to the floor. Anders made a strangled noise and stood up quickly, tipping his own chair back. It clattered on the marble floor as he took the elf’s arm and pulled him upright, feeling guilty as Fenris winced in pain. Anders pulled the chair closer again. “Please sit  _ in _ the chair.” Fenris sat, his face flushing with embarrassment. He stared down at the table as Anders righted his own chair and sat down again, trying to ignore the blatant stares of the other patrons around them.

Anders smiled sheepishly at Dorian.

“It’s only been a day,” he tried to explain.

“That is a curious undertaking,” Dorian commented. “May I ask why?”

_ Fenris must be wondering as well _ . Anders glanced at the elf.

“It was a—” Anders rubbed at his jaw. “He was badly hurt. I couldn’t let him die or get sold to someone who would do something horrible to him.” Anders shuddered. Fenris’s gaze was fixed on the top of the table.

“Many such cases take place every day,” Dorian said.

A finely dressed server came by and placed glasses of chilled water in front of them, hesitating when they came to Fenris.

“He needs one too,” Anders said, then turned back to Dorian. “It may have been impulsive of me, but I don’t regret it.”

“I see.” Dorian took a sip of his water. “Why not simply accept him as he is?”

“I won’t own another person,” Anders said. “It is not right.”

“The slaves of House Pavus are treated well, and enjoy lives far better than those of free folk in the city.”

“It’s the principle of the thing,” Anders grumbled, drinking his water. The server returned and Dorian ordered wine and fish for all three of them.

“Oh,” Anders said, leaning forward as he pointed to Fenris, “he doesn’t like fish.”

Dorian’s lips quirked in a smile. “Very well, then. Two orders of the fish and a lamb curry.”

“Thanks,” Anders said as the server left. “Now what can I help you with?”

“As you are probably aware, there are very few  spirit mages in Tevinter. Almost none, in fact,” Dorian said. “I study necromancy myself, but I wish to learn about other branches of magic as well. I tried speaking to another spirit mage from here, but it seems that his definition of  _ spirit _ is essentially a blend of necromancy and blood magic. Nasty stuff. As a healer, I am sure that your spirit magic is pure.”

“Yes,” Anders replied. “I wouldn’t dream of doing anything else.”

“I’ve read some about it,” Dorian said, leaning forward with interest, “but I am intrigued. From what I have read, spirit healing requires a lot of concentration, as a living body can react unexpectedly.”

“It takes a lot of focus,” Anders agreed, accepting the wine glass that was handed to him.

Dorian smiled as he watched Fenris when the glass was set down in front of him.

The elf stiffened and stared at the glass wide-eyed as if a tiny live animal had been placed in front of him and might attack him.

Anders actually began to worry that this might be a bit much for the elf. He was being overwhelmed with a lot of new things.

“Dorian wants you to try it,” Anders said. “It’s good.” He took a drink from his own glass. “It won’t hurt you. Unless you drink too much that is. This isn’t too much though. I think you’ll like it.”

Fenris continued to stare at the glass. He licked his lips nervously. His hands were fidgeting in his lap. 

Anders returned to his conversation with Dorian, hoping that perhaps taking his attention away from Fenris would help him feel more comfortable. Finally, Fenris grabbed the stem of the glass and raised it to take a tiny sip, quickly setting it back down and sliding his hands back onto his lap. He continued to do this through the rest of the evening, once their food came and Anders convinced him to eat.

Dorian ordered a dessert as well, which made Anders nervous now too. Just how much was this man going to spend? Dorian seemed unfazed, though, and casually continued to talk, quietly drinking his wine while Anders put some of the dessert onto a plate for Fenris and spent several minutes convincing him to eat it.

Anders was relieved when they finally left the restaurant. He’d talked to Dorian a little about Fenris’s condition and his lyrium problem, and the man had seemed interested in trying to help, saying that he’d stop by the clinic again sometime. He thanked Anders for his time, and Anders thanked him for the meal before hurrying home with Fenris several steps behind him.

Anders huffed and dropped onto the cot in his living room.

“That was unexpected,” he said, “but that guy seemed pretty nice. I’m stuffed though. Mmm.” He fell back on the bed, spreading his arms wide as he reveled in the feeling of having a full stomach.

Fenris stood just inside the door. His ear twitched and he frowned. He looked down and nudged at the metal collar with his foot.

Anders sat up.

“Is something wrong?”

Fenris immediately pulled himself to attention, shaking his head fearfully.

“You look like something is troubling you,” Anders said. “Are you still seeing things? Hearing things?”

Fenris blinked at him.  _ His eyes are so green _ .

“You can talk to me,” Anders said, patting the bed next to him. “Come sit so I can look at your arms.”

Fenris obeyed, letting Anders pick up his arm to look at the cuts. Anders’ face darkened.

“These aren’t healing very well,” he said. “There must be something other than the lyrium causing it.” At least it looked like Fenris had stopped scratching at it. “I would like to do another diagnostic, see if there’s any lingering enchantments I can take care of.”

Fenris didn’t resist, but flinched as Anders initiated the spell. As he let the magic soak into Fenris’s skin, looking for signs of previous magic, he watched the elf’s face. Fenris was looking away, his eyes moving around the room nervously. His ear twitched and he cocked his head as though listening.

“Does magic bother you?” Anders asked quietly. Fenris blinked and shook his head a little as if trying to shake a thought before looking to Anders. “Magic?” Anders repeated. “Does it bother you?”

Fenris just shook his head, but Anders doubted he was really telling the truth.

“You can talk to me,” Anders said. “I won’t hurt you. Does the magic hurt?”

Fenris shook his head again. “No,” he said, his voice timid.

“Does it scare you?”

Fenris hesitated. “Yes.”

“What did that man do to you?”

Fenris bit his lip and shook his head. Anders sighed.

“We’ll stick to yes and no questions,” he said, then stopped suddenly. There was an enchantment still there in Fenris’s skin. He hadn’t noticed it before because it covered the same area as the lyrium residue. It seemed like some kind of sticky barrier spell. Anders quickly withdrew his diagnostic. Removing the barrier should also allow him to remove the leftover lyrium in his skin and allow Fenris to actually begin healing. But Anders didn’t know how to remove it, or what would happen to the lyrium within Fenris’s system if he did so. Thus far, the only negative effects he was having was the withdrawal symptoms. If he were experiencing poisoning, he’d probably be quite sick. Non-mages weren’t supposed to be able to drink lyrium, but somehow whatever had been done to him had negated that effect.

Anders realized that Fenris was looking at him. He tried to smooth the worry from his expression.

“We’d better get some rest,” he said, standing up. “Do you hurt anywhere else?”

Fenris glanced aside, and then nodded.

Anders retrieved the salve and then came back to stand by the bed.

“Can you show me where?”

Fenris pulled off Anders’ tunic and turned to expose his back. Sure enough, the cuts on his back were in bad shape.

“I’m going to try to ease it a little with a healing spell,” Anders said, “and then I’ll use the salve.” Fenris didn’t complain, hardly flinched when Anders used his magic and when he began to apply the salve.

“Alright, you’d better sleep now,” Anders said, as he finished. “We have another long day ahead of us tomorrow.”

As Anders tried to fall asleep, he wondered if perhaps Fenris could help him in the clinic, to give him something to do rather than sit in the back room all day. At least he was answering questions now, but Anders knew that this was only a small step, and there was still a long ways to go.


	6. Anders Teaches Freedom, Lesson One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Autonomy is hard. Anders tries to help.

Anders was woken by a light persistent touch on his arm. He opened his eyes groggily.

“Fenris?”

“M-master…”

Anders sat up, reaching to hold Fenris’s forearm and keep him from backing away.

“Can I establish one rule?” He asked, rubbing at his eyes with his other hand. “There’s no need to call me  _ master _ , just call me Anders.”

“But—”

“I don’t really have any friends here,” Anders said quickly. “At least if you could call me by my name. I’d like to feel like…” He sighed.  _ Like we are soulmates _ . “Is it time to get up?” He asked abruptly.

“I-I do not know,” Fenris faltered.

“Oh,” Anders recalled that Fenris had woken him up. “Did you need something?”

“There is someone in the room,” Fenris said.

Anders was on his feet immediately, reaching for his staff. It was odd for a burglar to try to steal something while he was home, but he wasn’t about to let it happen.

“Where was he?” Anders asked.

Fenris pointed to the side of the room where the bed was.

Anders stepped quickly into the room, but it was empty. He looked wildly from side to side, then turned back to look at Fenris, who looked terrified.

“There's no one there,” Anders said, lowering his staff.

Fenris collapsed to his knees, bowing to the floor.

“I'm so sorry, master,” he muttered. “I-I was sure this time.”

“We just talked about this,” Anders said patiently, kneeling next to Fenris. Fenris flinched when Anders touched his arm.

“Please don't call me your master,” Anders said. “Stand up please, I'm not upset. I'm worried.”

Fenris let Anders pull him to his feet, but kept his gaze down. He quivered in Anders’ grasp. All Anders wanted to do was pull him into a hug, but he knew that would fluster Fenris even more.

“I know this is all new to you,” he said. “Seeing things and hearing things, but they’re not real and you don’t have to be upset about them. I understand. They’re normal symptoms.”

“They’re not new,” Fenris said, gathering a bit of boldness and looking into Anders’ eyes.  _ Those eyes _ . There was a depth of innocence that Anders hadn’t quite been expecting. He gaped.

“I have been hearing them since I can remember,” Fenris said. “Seeing them.”

Anders let go and stepped back in surprise. “Even before coming here?”

Fenris nodded, and Anders frowned unhappily. Of course the magister would keep the elf on the edge of withdrawal, to give him the added element of instability and uncertainty, making him doubt even his own ears and eyes.

“Fenris—” Anders couldn’t help it. He lunged and pulled Fenris into a hug, gently cupping the back of the elf’s head in one of his hands. “Trust me and try to endure it just a little longer. I’m not trying to torture you. They  _ will _ go away eventually. I promise.”

Fenris took only a moment to digest these words, and then he began to squirm. Anders let him go and Fenris staggered back, looking at him with some suspicion.

Anders smiled.

“I couldn't help myself,” he said, “You've probably never had a hug before.”

“Why?”

“Why did I hug you?”

Fenris rubbed his hands up his arms as if feeling the skin where Anders had touched him. He glanced down.

“What is the purpose of it?”

“It's supposed to show you that I'm sorry about what happened to you. Try to comfort you.”

“I do not require it,” Fenris said, puzzled. “These are my companions.”

“The  _ voices? _ ”

“Yes.”

“They're not  _ real _ .”

“They…” Fenris frowned, a small pout that Anders found  _ adorable _ . “They speak to me.”

“Did the one just now speak to you?”

“Yes.”

“What did he say?” Anders desperately hoped they weren't urging Fenris to do bad things.

Fenris opened his mouth and the sounds that came out were not in a language Anders recognized.

Anders simply stared until he noticed Fenris wilting, his ears beginning to droop.

“Was that... _ Qunlat _ ?”

“He is a qunari,” Fenris said, as if that explained anything.

“He's a—” Anders shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts. “Okay, I don't speak Qunari. What does that translate to?”

“ _ You have strayed from your station. You are a slave. _ ” Fenris said flatly.

Anders grimaced. “That's bad. Don't listen to that.”

“But I am—”

“Nope.” Anders said. “Nope. Nope. Nope.” He turned back to his bed and fluffed the cover, shaking his head. “We’re doing something about that today.”

Fenris stood watching him as Anders angrily punched his pillow back into shape and then kicked the bedpost, making the entire bed shake. He huffed and smoothed the pillow before turning back to Fenris.

“First, I am getting you your own clothes. Real clothes. Clothes that you like. I’m going to find out what it will cost to free you and I’m doing that if it costs every last goddamn copper I’ve earned.”

Fenris looked uncomfortable with Anders’ plans, but he didn’t say anything more. Anders wished he would.

Anders usually took this day off, so he took Fenris out to the market to buy food for the week, a little  _ less _ food than usual, which Anders was not happy about, but he needed the rest of the money to buy Fenris clothes.

On the way to the clinic to work for the afternoon, he took Fenris into a clothing shop. Declining to speak to the owner about custom clothing, he took Fenris’s elbow and walked him over to where there were several outfits on display.

“What do you want to wear?” He asked quietly. “I don’t have much, but I saved some just for this purpose.” He looked at Fenris for an answer.

Fenris reached up to pull the loose collar of Anders’ tunic up over his shoulder, though it just slid back down a moment later. He was staring hard at the displays in front of him. He shook his head.

“What’s wrong?”

“No,” Fenris said, taking a step back.

“I’m not letting you get out of this one,” Anders said. “We’re not leaving until you get some clothes that fit you.”

In the end, Anders decided on a pair of leggings, very plain black ones that Anders would have found more distracting if it hadn’t been for the tunic they’d also found. It was a cheap brocade, but fairly thin and light enough to be cool, with sleeves that ended just below the elbows, something Fenris had been surprisingly insistent on.  _ Perhaps not so surprising, with his scars.  _ The tunic accentuated his slender form and had a gold colored detail on one side of the clasps that held together the fabric over the chest as well as the collar. It made Fenris look downright beautiful —dark green with a faint pattern that almost shimmered in the sunlight.

Anders stood him in front of the mirror so Fenris could admire himself. It was  _ slightly _ more expensive to get the tunic with the longer sleeves, but Anders didn't regret it. Fenris shyly looked at himself, turning little to get a better view of his profile. Anders thought he could detect a slight blush of color to the tips of his ears.

The owner of the shop had stepped away to help another customer. Anders moved up next to Fenris to smile at him in the full length mirror. He wanted to touch—an arm around his shoulder or waist, holding his hand—but he didn't, clenching his hands into fists behind his back instead.

“Do you like it?” Anders asked. Fenris's expression betrayed concern. “Is something wrong?”

“I can't,” Fenris said, quickly reaching for the clasps on the front of the tunic. Anders grabbed his arms and held them still.

“Fenris.” He looked deep into Fenris’s eyes.   _ So much fear. My soulmate.  _ He ached to see Fenris so uncomfortable. “These clothes are yours now. It's my promise to you. You will be free.” These last words were whispered, just in case someone overheard.

“The voice—” Fenris faltered, stammering.

“Is this the Qunari?” Anders asked. Fenris shook his head.

“What is it saying?”

Just then, the owner came hurrying back. Anders quickly turned to him with a smile.

“These are exactly what we want,” he said, and pulled out his coin purse to pay for it. He was left with one silver. One silver to his name.

He hid his panic behind a grin and motioned Fenris to follow him from the store, his old clothes now hanging over his arm. Fenris stopped him after several paces with a hand on his arm.

“The voice says that I am—” Fenris cut himself off, pulling away. Anders whirled to look at him.

“Tell me what the voice says,” he urged.

“I am…your body slave.”

Anders gasped. “Never!” How dare his voice tell him that!  _ You are my soulmate _ . “The only reason I can't officially free you is because I can't afford it yet, but I will. You’re free to me.”

Fenris lapsed into a thoughtful silence.

“Come on, let's go to the clinic,” Anders said, a little disappointed when Fenris fell in behind him. Eventually, he'd get Fenris to walk side by side with him. Until then—he glanced back at Fenris, who seemed to be examining the sleeve of his new shirt. Anders was just happy that Fenris was with him. He’d see to it that nothing more could happen to his soulmate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> <3 thank you so much for your continued support and for reading! Please let me know what you thought, leave a kudos (or a comment!), and check back in for another chapter (hopefully soon) !!! <3 much love!


	7. Anders Heals

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fenris has a small crisis and Anders finds his business is well-received.

It was a slow afternoon. People weren't used to the clinic being open today, but there was a steady enough stream of clients that Anders was able to make enough to buy them a small meal. Fenris had gone into the back room, but after eating Anders convinced him to come out into the clinic again.

Anders was in the middle of talking to a patient when he noticed that the woman wasn't listening anymore. She was staring off into the corner. Anders followed her gaze and saw Fenris with his back pressed against the wall,  _ crying _ . It was soft enough Anders hadn't heard him, but Anders was immediately concerned. He quickly wrapped up his business with the woman and then ran to Fenris and knelt in front of him.

“What's wrong? Fenris? Are you hurt?”

Fenris shook his head, fresh sobs shaking his shoulders. Anders leaned forward to wrap his arms around the elf, but Fenris made a high pitched sound of complaint and shrank away, shaking his head even more firmly.

Anders was at a complete loss.  _ It must be the new clothes _ .

“The clothes look good on you. They are yours now,” he said. “It's no reason to be upset.”

Fenris reached for Anders arm to help push himself upright. Anders hovered close as Fenris staggered into the back room, rubbing tears from his eyes with one fist. Anders stopped him once he'd closed the door behind them and reached to gently hold Fenris’s fist in his own, cupping it with one hand as he ran his fingers over the barely healed cuts that ran across his skin. Fenris held back his tears at this motion, looking at Anders with confusion.

“I'll bring your lyrium in a minute,” Anders said quietly. “I need you to lie down and get some rest. This was probably an overwhelming morning.”

Fenris looked down at his hand, his marred skin, and pulled it away. But he did do as Anders had asked. He went and lay down on the mat, turning over to face the wall.

Anders heard the jingle of the bell on his door and reluctantly went back out into the clinic. It was only a matter of minutes before he’d healed the elf who came in and was bringing the lyrium back for Fenris. Fenris seemed to have gotten over whatever was bothering him. He was kneeling by the mat, and bowed when Anders entered.

“Thank you, master, for the clothes.”

Anders sat down in front of him, awkwardly adjusting his robes so he could sit cross legged.

“You can't call me that,” he said, once Fenris was upright again. “I understand that I paid for you, but that was not to own you. The new clothes are yours, because you are your own person. We're going to practice. You call me Anders.”

Fenris hesitated. 

“Anders,” he said, quietly.

Anders smiled. “Much better! Now I would like you to keep doing that.”

Fenris nodded.  _ He still has so far to go. _ Anders tried to curb his thoughts before he got too excited.

“Did you want to join me in the clinic?” He asked. “I was thinking perhaps I could teach you to help me sometimes if you're up for it.”

Fenris nodded his agreement, and Anders spent the next hour showing Fenris his supplies and trying to explain all their uses. Fenris did not speak, only followed and nodded, touching when instructed to. He retreated to his corner again when someone entered the clinic. This man was obviously not a slave or commoner. He was dressed finely, with long dark hair styled over his shoulder and a scar running down one side of his face and continuing onto the side of his neck.

Despite his flawless posture, he walked with a decided limp.

“Can I help you?” Anders asked him, a bit nervous. He was unused to seeing patients other than commoners or slaves.

“You are a healer, no?” The man asked, his voice like thick molasses.

“That's me,” Anders responded, hoping this wasn't another man who wanted to discuss theory. Not because he'd disliked Dorian, but he didn't want to stay out late again. He was tired.

“As you can see,” the man said, “I have been injured. It has been years, but you see?” He paced several steps to demonstrate. “It did not heal properly. Can you fix?”

Anders stared for a moment. He was used to healing injuries and illnesses. What this man was requesting was purely cosmetic, unless he really needed the leg for physical activity, which Anders doubted.

“I can take a look,” he said. “I've never done this so long after the injury, but it should be possible. It might take a little longer, but I should be able to.”

The man seemed pleased, and seated himself on the nearest cot. Anders bent over him to examine his leg. There was evidence of an attempt to heal the bone when it had been broken, but it had been poorly executed by some method other than spirit healing. The bone was poorly healed and the muscles were therefore not aligned correctly.

“This must hurt to walk,” Anders said, furrowing his brow. “It was healed very improperly.”

“It does cause pain,” the man said. “I have my slaves massage it and I often visit the baths to soak it in the warm water, but that does nothing to heal it. I heard that you were a spirit healer. Only a spirit healer could have done this properly when it happened, but at the time, there was none.”

Anders nodded, but frowned a little at the man’s mention of his slaves.

“I will need you to remove your pants and lie down,” he said, “I need access to the skin.”

As the man willingly did as Anders requested, Anders stepped outside to dim the lamp that indicated he was open for business. He would be unable to treat anyone else while he was working.

The man was relaxed, being used to proximity to magic, even chatting a little as Anders worked, though Anders was concentrating too hard to really be able to talk.

Without even having to break the skin, Anders managed to adjust the position of the poorly healed bone, though it took a good deal of mana to work on bone.

He could not remove his hands at this point, or disrupt the spell, yet he was running low on mana.

“Fenris,” he called softly, “would you retrieve a lyrium potion from the cabinet?”

Silently, Fenris moved between the corner, the cabinet, and the cot where Anders was working, formally presenting Anders with the potion.

“C-can you—” Anders glanced at Fenris. He didn’t like asking him to do this. “Open the potion and let me drink some? I can’t move my hands or I’ll release the ligaments, and that could be damaging.”

Fenris nodded, uncorking the potion and lifting it to Anders’ lips. The mage drank eagerly half of the potion, then pulled back to signal he was finished.

“Thank you, Fenris,” he said, making sure to look Fenris in the eye. Fenris nodded and quickly retreated back to his corner, where he shrank against the wall and wrapped his arms around his legs.

“I hadn’t expected to see an Anderfel owning a slave,” the man commented.

“He isn’t my slave,” Anders said quickly. “He’s my assistant. He’s shy.”

“I see,” the man said, but in a tone that implied that he really had seen and didn’t believe Anders. Anders knew this, but he realized that his words wouldn’t change the man’s mind if he spoke any longer. Instead, he began asking the man about how he had originally gotten so badly injured. Now that the bone had been healed, the stretching and readjusting of the muscles was a much easier task and Anders was able to talk easily with the man as he worked.

It was nearly two hours later when Anders asked the man to stand and was relieved to see the man strutting across the room without a trace of his former limp.

“I took a chance in coming,” the man said, clearly impressed. “I see that I made a good decision. My wife told me that what I desired was impossible. She has never seen a spirit healer. I saw one long ago when I was in Rivain and you truly live up to the name.”

He bowed, thanked Anders, and paid him.

Anders waited until the door closed behind the man to empty out the small purse. His eyes widened as he counted the coin. He’d made with one patient what he often made in five days. It was easily twice as much as he had spent in the morning on both food and the clothing for Fenris.

He went over to sit by Fenris and showed him the coin.

“Thank you for your help,” he said, pulling out a third of the sum and holding it out to the elf. “You earned this. If you wouldn’t have been here, I would have had to temporarily set the muscles and hope that they’d hold until I could get to the lyrium and get back. It could have ruined the whole second part of the operation.”

Fenris blinked at Anders, disbelieving.

“I can’t accept it,” he said finally, and Anders had to school his face to stay calm.  _ He spoke without me having to ask him a question _ .

“You don’t have to do anything with it,” Anders said, “but it is yours. Would you like me to set it aside for you?”

Fenris nodded. At least that way he wouldn’t have to handle the money.

Anders transferred the larger portion into his own coin purse and then placed Fenris’s sum into the smaller one, tucking both into his robe.

“I think we’ve gotten enough done for one day,” he said, standing up and stretching happily. He was exhausted, but pleased. Fenris stood as well, brushing dust from his rear. Already he was mindful of taking care of his new clothes.

“Let’s go home,” Anders said, and Fenris nodded, looking thoughtful as he followed Anders out onto the street.


	8. Anders Wonders—Fenris, What Are You Doing?!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anders doing what he's always done and looking after people who need him. Fenris tries to help.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The chapter two ahead of this one isn't _quite_ done, but I really wanted to post this for the lovely [blueelvewithwings](http://archiveofourown.org/users/blueelvewithwings/pseuds/blueelvewithwings), who has been such a sweet and enthusiastic supporter of this fic. And it's their birthday! So birthday update just for you! <3
> 
> Sorry about the wait, I've been outlining a bit now, trying to make sure I know where I'm going from here on, and I've also been blessed with an angel beta: [DovaBunny](http://archiveofourown.org/users/DovaBunny/pseuds/DovaBunny). Thank you so much!!!

They were preparing to go to bed—Anders had just finished applying elfroot salve to Fenris’s cuts when there was a frantic knock on the door, followed by a panicked cry.

“Healer!”

Anders quickly broke away from where he was tending Fenris and ran to open the door.

A small crowd stood outside the door, maybe a dozen people. They weren’t angry, though, they were frantic, pushing their way inside, grabbing at Anders.

“What’s wrong?” Anders cried out, trying to keep upright on his feet with all the bodies suddenly shoving around him.

“Away from him!” Fenris suddenly shouted, bristling and scowling as he shoved into the fray, pushing people away from Anders. He grabbed their arms and ripped them off him, flinging them so that they staggered a few steps before stopping. They didn’t come back, just stood around the clinic staring, not at Anders anymore, but at the elf.

“Fenris, these people aren’t going to hurt me,” Anders said gently. “They need my help.” He turned to the people who stood ringed around him.

“I apologize I’ve been busy the last few nights. I had hoped that since there was no knocking on the door, everything was fine. What is the matter?”

“There was a fire,” one of the women said quickly. “We didn’t dare move them, they seem so badly injured.”

“My son!” One of the men broke in, stepping towards Anders. “We must hurry, please!”

Anders immediately ran for his staff.

“Fenris,” he paused seeing that the elf was unsure what to do. “You may come if you like. I will be busy, but it might be better than staying alone here.”

Fenris nodded. The crowd was already leaving the clinic, looking over their shoulder for Anders, who was shoving a lyrium potion, elfroot, bandages, and salves into his pack as quickly as he could.

As Anders ran out the door, Fenris paused for a moment to grab the mage’s worn coat off of its hook. Folding it over his arm, he hurried after the mage.

Despite the citizens’ fear, the victims were in better shape than Anders had been expecting. He’d drained his mana earlier that afternoon, and had only recovered a part of it between then and now, so he relied heavily on lyrium potion and traditional methods. He used his mana to heal damaged lungs and the worst of the burns, and let his salves and bandages assuage the less life-threatening injuries.

He was entirely focused on his work, not noticing that Fenris hovered along behind him as he hurried from person to person. It had been an elf’s home that burned down—possibly intentionally set on fire, but she had been taking care of the children of several families as they worked late into the evening. Only one young girl still hovered on the brink of dying once Anders had finished making his rounds. He returned to her, kneeling and scraping at the last reserves of his mana to try to heal her.

He cursed under his breath as the healing spell fizzled out under his hands. He’d done just enough, though, and the girl would pull through. Anders gently pulled up the blanket laid over her so she could sleep in peace while her body did the rest of the work of recovering.

“You can do no more,” a rumbling voice came from just behind his shoulder as Anders straightened, a little unsteady on his feet.

“I need to check on the others again,” he muttered, turning away from what he had assumed was one of the children’s parents. A hand caught his arm.

He stopped, sighing, and closed his eyes for a moment. A weight was placed on his shoulders. Startled, he jerked from his reverie and turned to get a look at the speaker, and saw that it was Fenris who had spoken. Fenris who had brought Anders’ coat and now put it on Anders’ shoulders.

“You are shivering,” Fenris said. Anders blinked, processing just  _ who _ was standing there telling him what to do.

“I am?”.

“You’ve done enough. Your mana is gone.”

“How do you know?”

“I have seen the signs.”

Anders supposed he had, though he did not want to think about the implications of that train of thought. He was tired and—what was Fenris  _ doing? _

Fenris had broken away and was running towards the still-burning building.

“Fenris!”

The other people simply watched the elf run into the building. Anders shrugged off his coat and ran after him, but several of the children’s parents held him back.

“No healer, it’s too dangerous!”

“Fenris went in there!”

Anders tried to pull away, but the men held him firmly.

“Let me go!” He tried with all his remaining might to break free of their hold, desperately struggling to lurch forward. The hands held him firmly, and Anders had to stop, gasping for breath and sagging between the two men holding him. The wall of the building shuddered, a burst of flames escaping through a hole in the roof.

“Fenris!” He tried once more to run towards the building, but it was useless. The men held him tightly, one even wrapping an arm across his chest to help support him. They were protective of their healer, but Anders wished they would just let him go after Fenris. Fenris mattered more to him now.

His heart raced and a long minute passed. One of the children laughed as their mother whispered to them, and another joined in. He heard running feet, and another child ran past in front of him, squealing as he was swept up into his father’s arms. 

Anders turned to the man next to him. He was still being held loosely, but he had sunk to his knees, the men on either side having done the same.

Another minute passed with no movement but that of the flames. Anders began to cry.  _ I can’t lose him. My soulmate _ . He was mustering his strength, trying to pull away again, when Fenris appeared, staggering through the door.

The men saw his relief and released him. Anders ran forward, throwing himself at Fenris, who looked frightened enough to run back into the building. Anders stopped himself from hugging him at the last moment.

“Fenris, what were you thinking?”

“I saw someone,” Fenris said, his voice dissolving into a cough.

“Are you alright? We need to get you home,” Anders said, putting an arm around Fenris. Fenris coughed again and doubled over.

Anders barely acknowledged the others standing around as he guided Fenris through the scattering crowd and walked him back to the clinic.

Once they were inside, Anders stepped away to get Fenris some water, but when he turned back, Fenris was kneeling with his face to the floor.

“Fenris, what are you doing?”

“I’m sorry master, I—”

“Fenris.”

Fenris looked up at the stern tone in Anders’ voice, a look of panic crossing his face. Anders’ voice when he spoke again was more gentle.

“My name is not ‘master.’”

“A-Anders,” Fenris corrected, bowing again.

“Fenris, please stand up,” Anders said, bending to help Fenris to his feet. He handed him the glass of water. “Drink this and go sit down. I’m making tea as well. It should soothe your throat.”

Fenris obeyed, but was still coughing. His hair was darkened with ash.

Anders had been hoping to go to bed earlier tonight, but clearly Fenris would need more care first.

“Why did you run in there?” Anders asked. “You could have gotten hurt.”  _ You could have died _ .

“I saw someone go in,” Fenris said, “but…” He looked down at his lap.

“It wasn’t real,” Anders finished quietly, and Fenris nodded.

“I am not upset,” Anders insisted, because he wanted Fenris to hear it. “I was scared for you.”

“Why? I am—”

“An important person,” Anders finished, knowing what Fenris was going to say and cutting him off before he could. “I don’t know why anyone didn’t stop you. You probably ran too fast. You’re pretty quick. I tried to go in after you, but they wouldn’t let me. What did you see?”

Fenris paused to take a sip of his water.

“A girl,” he said. “I...knew her, and yet...I did not.”

“Some of the things you are seeing may be from your memories. Your mind is under a lot of stress, and it’s going to produce things from what you’ve already seen and heard.”

“I have no memories,” Fenris said.

“What do you mean?”

“I remember nothing before—” Fenris hesitated, biting his lip. Anders leaned in encouragingly. Fenris hadn’t talked so freely before.

“Before what? What happened?”

“Before the ritual,” Fenris said, shuddering as he stared into his glass as if it would somehow clear his mind.

“The ...ritual?”


End file.
